


Hiding in the Castle

by merryofsoul



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassination Attempt(s), M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Prince Jeonghan, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 20:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryofsoul/pseuds/merryofsoul
Summary: In which there is a plot against the crown, a safe haven in the shape of a farm, and a stranger that Jeonghan cannot help but admire.
Relationships: Xu Ming Hao | The8/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	Hiding in the Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tullycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tullycat/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KELLI!!!!!!! I hope you enjoy your good scorpio boy and his sunflower, and you probably knew exactly what I was doing when I sent you that trope sorter, but I'm glad royals was one of the top tropes because this was a lot of fun to write 😊 Love you and hope you have a good day 💖💖
> 
> Thank you to karlarado and helicases for the beta and listening to me ramble, even when half of it doesn't make any sense!! You guys are the realest. 
> 
> Title from Minghao's solo song!

Jeonghan sighs and stretches his fingers, his wrists, his elbows. He puts down his brush and stretches his back. He picks it up again, taps the paper in front of him a few times and creates a few erroneous dots, and then sighs. 

“I was thinking of changing the drapes in my sitting room,” he announces to the room. Wonwoo, ever busy with whatever tasks he gets up to as a scribe and the palace’s librarian, only hums in acknowledgement of Jeonghan’s statement and continues working.

Jeonghan glares at the page in front of him. 

“I am thinking blue, but not like a royal blue or a robin’s egg blue, but like an ocean blue, or sky blue.”

Wonwoo does not respond, just continues to write.

“Or maybe like a rose pink, that could be nice,” Jeonghan continues. “Or like the color of those sweets that Mingyu makes.”

The sound of bristles on parchment stops, and Jeonghan glances over at Wonwoo with a triumphant smile. 

“Are you not working on something?”

“I am bored of it,” Jeonghan replies. “Can you not entertain me?”

“Not at the risk of Jisoo-ssi’s wrath,” Wonwoo replies, and begins his writing again. Jeonghan snorts, even though he privately agrees that Jisoo’s anger can be quite scary at times. When the door opens to admit Jisoo, he scowls even harder. 

“Why do you get to enjoy yourself?” Jeonghan asks, watching Jisoo’s approach. He’s balancing a tray of tea and cakes, which Jeonghan knows were supposed to be for dessert, but he also knows that Mingyu is nothing in the face of Jisoo’s flirtations. 

“Did you finish your exercises?” Jisoo asks, placing the tray just out of Jeonghan’s reach and eyeing the blank paper critically. 

“Wonwoo was asking me about the changes I want to make to my sitting room,” Jeonghan says. Wonwoo makes a face, and Jisoo scoffs as he deposits a teacup down in front of Wonwoo. Jeonghan only has to pout for a second before Jisoo places a cup in front of him as well. 

“You are a terrible student,” Jisoo says, sitting down next to Jeonghan.

“You are a terrible tutor,” Jeonghan replies. Jisoo raises an eyebrow at him, and Jeonghan flutters his eyelashes. “But a wonderful best friend.”

“Mmhmm,” Jisoo mutters, and then mumbles something in that damned language Jeonghan cannot master.

Jisoo soon lets Jeonghan abandon his lesson in favor of a paper folding competition between the three of them. Wonwoo is a valiant adversary, but nothing can beat Jeonghan’s skill, and Jeonghan is in the middle of a crow of victory when Seungcheol arrives.

“No,” Jeonghan says as soon as he sees Seungcheol’s face. “_No._”

“I am sorry, Your Highness,” Seungcheol says, and he does look quite apologetic. “There has been another threat.”

“But I do not want to go to Jeju,” Jeonghan says miserably. The boat journey always makes him sick, and it is cold now. He does not want to be on a windy island. 

Seungcheol grimaces. “About that…”

“No Jeju?” Jeonghan asks. “Why not?”

“It has been compromised,” Seungcheol says. His captain of the guard has an impeccable poker face, and it is only after years of knowing Seungcheol that Jeonghan can see how bothered and angry Seungcheol is about this fact. 

Jisoo frowns. “How did that happen?”

“I intend to find out,” Seungcheol replies, bowing apologetically. “But for the time being, the prince has to be kept somewhere safe, and I know another place. But I have to warn you, it is not what you are used to—”

“Cheollie,” Jeonghan interrupts. “Wherever it is, it is fine. I trust you.”

Seungcheol looks relieved to hear that, but his face still pulls in an unhappy grimace. 

“You say that now.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “It cannot be that bad.”

*

The bumpy ride to the promised safe place make Jeonghan almost as sick as the boat journey to Jeju. He tries to clear his head and think of anything other than how miserable he feels, and settles on working through the dilemma he has found himself in for the past year. 

Numerous threats to his life. Countless times the royal family has been scattered to various safe havens across their lands. Jeonghan has spent more time in the drafty castle on Jeju than he has his own home this past year. It is endless. At this point he would almost rather be assassinated than deal with one more day of living like this. 

“Jeonghan.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you frowning so hard for?”

“Just wishing for death,” Jeonghan replies. 

“Glad you are not feeling too dramatic today,” Jisoo replies evenly. 

“Who knew the treaty with Shenzhen would be met with such backlash?” Jeonghan asks, frowning harder as he peeks out through the curtains of the carriage. The countryside rolls by, green and bright and beautiful, but the motion makes Jeonghan’s stomach lurch again. He lets the curtain drop and sits back with another sigh. at the countryside. “Heaven forbid we have a congenial relationship with our neighbors.”

“Change scares people,” Jisoo says, flipping another page in his book. Just watching him read makes Jeonghan more nauseous. 

Jeonghan sighs. This he knows. Acceptance also takes time, but he is tired of this game. 

“When is the prince coming to sign the treaty?”

“Three months time,” Jisoo replies as the carriage slows to a halt. 

“Hopefully we are back in the castle by then,” Jeonghan replies. “How long do you think we will have to stay?”

“Ah,” Jisoo says as the grooms help them down. “About that.”

“What about it?” Jeonghan asks as he looks around. “You— what is this place?”

It looks like something stolen from a fairy tale, or maybe the scribes stole their inspiration from here. There is a cozy cottage nestled under the trees, acres of farmland surrounding it, and the way the sun hits the cobblestones makes the entire place shine. 

“Your home for as long as you would like,” a new voice says. Jeonghan turns to see a striking man bowing in his direction. “Welcome, Your Highness.” 

There is a thump as Seungcheol jumps down from the front of the carriage, and then he is striding forward to take the stranger in his arms and kiss him. 

Jeonghan says something that is unfit for royal mouths, and Jisoo sends him an amused look. 

“I have told you about my husband, Seokmin,” Seungcheol says once he finishes his greeting.

Jeonghan nods at Seokmin as the man blushes and bows again, deeper this time, as if embarrassed that Jeonghan saw him like that. Jeonghan is too thrilled to think about propriety — not that he ever really cares about it in the first place. 

“I rather thought you were making him up,” Jeonghan says. “He always sounded too good to be true, and now looking at this—“ Jeonghan gestures to their home. “Clearly you have lucked out here, Seungcheol.”

“Ah, I am the lucky one,” Seokmin says. “Who else can say they are married to the captain of the royal guard?”

Seungcheol grins and kisses Seokmin again, and Jisoo smiles fondly as he leads Jeonghan toward the house. 

“They will be busy for a little while yet,” Jisoo says. “It is not often they get to see each other these days.”

Jeonghan frowns. It was a long journey to get here in the first place, and Jeonghan cannot imagine the longer days and nights Seungcheol has spent at the castle, and in Jeju with Jeonghan, making sure he is safe from harm. Jeonghan is well aware of how much his staff sacrifices to take care of him, but seeing it first hand like this makes Jeonghan feel much worse about the whole thing. 

Jeonghan follows Jisoo toward the house. 

“What were you saying about how long we would be here?” 

Jisoo shoots him a look that Jeonghan does not like at all. 

“You are not staying, are you?” Jeonghan asks. Jisoo’s grimace says it all. “You bastard.”

“There is still a lot to figure out at the castle,” Jisoo says. “And if we do not want anyone to know that you are not there, most of your staff has to stay, to make it believable.”

“What about Seungcheol?” Jeonghan asks. “Usually I have him or Hansol with me.”

“He can not stay,” Jisoo says. “And Hansol is with your family, but you will not be unprotected.”

Jeonghan squints. He does not see any of his personal guard or his family’s guards around. 

“Ah, I think it is me you are looking for,” Seokmin says, approaching and bowing slightly again. Jeonghan blinks. 

“I know I do not look like much—” Seokmin starts, and Seungcheol coughs in apparent disagreement. “— but I was slated to be in the army.”

“So why are you here?”

“My parents passed,” Seokmin says. “The wasting sickness. I took over the farm.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan says, suddenly feeling shamefaced. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Seokmin replies. He gets down on one knee and bows his head. “I promise to protect you, at the cost of my life.”

Jeonghan places a hand on Seokmin’s shoulder. “Let us hope it does not come to that.” He squeezes Seokmin’s shoulder before looking around. “Now, who wants to give me a tour of this place?”

*

Seungcheol and Jisoo only stay for the night, gone in the early hours of the morning when Jeonghan is glaring at the sun for daring to rise. Seokmin, of course, is a morning person, and darts off to complete chores as soon as they leave. Jeonghan crawls back into bed and sleeps until mid-day. 

After a few days of a similar routine, where Jeonghan rises at mid-day, reads a novel he brought along, and curses at some lessons Jisoo left him, Jeonghan realizes he does not see much of Seokmin during the day. Realizing Seomin must do a large majority of the work himself, Jeonghan abandons his lesson in the middle of one afternoon and goes in search of him. 

He finds him in the barn, feeding the cows. Jeonghan knows there are cows, chickens, and a small crop of vegetables, from the tour where Seokmin had proudly showed off the farm. 

“Your Highness!” Seokmin cries, dropping his armful of hay in the feeding trough. “Do you need something?”

“Just some fresh air,” Jeonghan says. He looks around at the barn, and how the task only seems half finished. “How much do they each eat?”

Seokmin hums thoughtfully. “About an armful each, but it depends on— what are you doing?” 

Jeonghan looks from his armful of hay to Seokmin’s shocked face. “Is this the wrong hay?”

“No that is correct, but—” Seokmin darts forward and tries to take the armful from Jeonghan, but Jeonghan turns so it’s out of reach. “You should not be doing this!” 

“I want to help,” Jeonghan says. He approaches one of the cows who is eyeing him expectantly, ignoring Seokmin’s sputtering behind him. 

“But—”

“It is either this, or I pick up a rake.”

Seokmin shuts up and does not bother him for the rest of the afternoon. 

After that, Seokmin lets Jeonghan help with small tasks around the farm — mainly feeding the animals, collecting eggs, or chopping food in the kitchen. When Seungcheol visits again at the end of two weeks, he takes one look at Jeonghan and says, “Oh my.”

Jeonghan tips the brim of the large, straw hat Seokmin had lent him and grins. “How do I look?”

“Like a lobster,” Seungcheol replies instantly. Jeonghan frowns and makes a rude gesture in his direction. Seokmin sees and immediately looks to the skies like he doesn’t know how to react. Jeonghan wishes he would just laugh — he has been working on him slowly over the past two weeks, but it is still a work in progress. 

“I hope you are not here to bring me home so soon,” Jeonghan says. “I am having fun here. Seokmin-ah has a lot of stories for me.”

“Seokmin!” Seungcheol cries. 

“He is lying!” Seokmin defends himself immediately. 

“Are you calling your prince a liar?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow and Seokmin flushes red as he gapes. 

“Yes,” Seokmin finally settles on, standing his ground. “Do not badmouth me to my husband.”

Jeonghan sniffs. “That is fair.”

Seungcheol, who has been watching their back and forth, sighs. 

“What have I done?” 

*

The longest that Jeonghan ever stayed at Jeju was two months. As his time at Seokmin and Seungcheol’s home passes a month with no good news from home, he thinks maybe he should get comfortable. 

And he is — he helps Seokmin with the chores and does his lessons (of course Jisoo had sent more with Seungcheol) and even tries his hand at cooking. It is only a simple stew, but the proud look on Seokmin’s face when he tastes it makes Jeonghan feel as if he had prepared an entire banquet. 

He is chopping potatoes and carrots one evening when their new visitor arrives. 

“Seokmin-ah,” Jeonghan says as he hears the door open. “When you say ‘all the same size’ are the carrots supposed to be the same size as the other carrots, or are they supposed to be the same size as the potatoes?”

“Both,” a voice that is definitely not Seokmin’s answers. 

Jeonghan whips around, his heart jumping into his throat. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“My name is Myungho,” the man replies, bowing deeply. He’s wearing a long traveler’s cloak, dusty from the road, and is holding his hat in his hands. “Should I be afraid?” 

Jeonghan frowns. If anyone should be afraid it is him, with all the threats to his life, and Seokmin somewhere else, completely unaware of this newcomer. Then he realizes he is brandishing the knife he had been using to chop the vegetables. 

He lowers the knife but keeps his grip around it. “I do not know. Should you be?” 

For some reason this seems to amuse Myungho, which irritates Jeonghan. He’s about to give Myungho a piece of his mind, but is interrupted by Seokmin’s return. He bustles into the kitchen, bumping into Myungho, who is still lingering in the doorway. Seokmin looks started for a moment, and then breaks out into a huge grin. 

“Oh, Myungho!” Seokmin says. “I was wondering when you would be coming through again.” 

At Jeonghan’s bemused look, Seokmin looks apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, Your—” Jeonghan almost throws a carrot at Seokmin, but Seokmin realizes his own mistake immediately. “Your carrot pieces are uneven, Jeonghan!” 

Jeonghan glares, and turns back to his perfectly acceptable carrots only when Myungho moves closer to the hearth to warm his hands at the fire, and is within Jeonghan’s line of sight. Seokmin hurries to Jeonghan’s side. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seokmin whispers. “Myungho’s been coming by for almost a year now, just needs a place to stay sometimes. I can ask him to find somewhere else if it makes you feel unsafe.”

Jeonghan frowns and looks at the tired slump of Myungho’s shoulders, and tunes into the sound of the rain outside. 

“You trust him?” Jeonghan asks. 

“I do,” Seokmin replies. 

“Then I suppose that is good enough for me,” Jeonghan replies. “Besides, if I die here, the whole of the crown will come down on you.”

Jeonghan pushes past Seokmin to add the vegetables to the waiting pot, leaving Seokmin gaping.

*

Having Myungho there does not mess up Jeonghan’s routine, per se, but it is odd. 

The first time Seokmin has to refer to Jeonghan by his given name rather than his title, he looks like he wants to die right on the spot. Myungho does not seem to notice anything odd, too busy studying Jeonghan himself. Jeonghan will take the stares if it means that Seokmin has not given them away. For someone who was going to be in the army, Seokmin has a terrible poker face. 

Myungho helps with the chores too, and Seokmin lets him rake and shovel, which Jeonghan notes with displeasure. He gets around Seokmin’s lines of propriety by approaching Myungho when they are alone in the barn. 

“Need a hand?” Jeonghan asks. Myungho looks around at the hay-strewn barn, and then eyes Jeonghan contemplatively. 

“Are you up for it?” Myungho asks, looking at Jeonghan’s skinny arms. Jeonghan crosses them and tries to make them look bigger than they actually are. It is not fair that someone as skinny as Myungho has as much hidden power as he does. 

“It will take you all afternoon by yourself,” Jeonghan points out. Seokmin ran after a wayward calf about half an hour ago, and he still has not returned. “Let me help.”

Myungho finds Jeonghan a rake and they work together in near-silence, only broken by Myungho humming quietly under his breath. Jeonghan is still trying to place the tune when Seokmin returns. 

“You!” Seokmin cries when he sees what Jeonghan is doing. Jeonghan raises his eyebrows in a challenge and grins. He shoots a quick glance at Myungho, and watches as Seokmin struggles to contain himself. “You...are doing such a good job! You too, Myungho!” 

Jeonghan and Myungho exchange amused smiles, and go back to raking. The cows moo their approval, and when Myungho moos back, Jeonghan laughs. 

He is not laughing later when he is nursing the raw, broken skin of his hands before dinner. Seokmin gives him an _I told you so_ look, but gives Jeonghan a jar of balm anyway. Jeonghan struggles to open the container by himself, and Seokmin is busy at the workbench when he looks around for help.

“Let me help,” Myungho says, holding out a hand for the jar. Jeonghan looks at his hands, that somehow look soft while also still calloused. Jeonghan hands over the balm, trying not to notice how large and strong Myungho’s hands look as he pops the lid off. Jeonghan holds out his poor hands, wordlessly asking for help, and Myungho obliges. 

His hands are warm when he cups Jeonghan’s hand in one and uses the other to scoop out a small dab of the balm and apply it to Jeonghan’s blisters. Jeonghan hisses at the first contact, and Myungho mutters an apology, but continues on. The sting fades after a few dabs, and then there is just a tingling. Jeonghan looks up from their hands, to Myungho’s serious face bent his work, to Seokmin’s knowing grin in the kitchen.

Jeonghan makes a rude face at him, and Seokmin winks before he turns back to the food. 

“You have to let them breathe, but also try to keep them clean,” Myungho says, after he has finished with Jeonghan’s other hand and is putting the lid back on the jar. “Maybe take a break from the manual labor for a few days.”

“But the cows,” Jeonghan sighs. “They will miss me.”

“You can still say hello,” Myungho says with a smile. “But that is it.”

Jeonghan’s not sure how he feels about being told what to do, but he has enough people in his life that boss him around that he is sort of used to it at this point. 

“Where are you from, Myungho?” Jeonghan asks. There is something about Myungho’s accent that Jeonghan cannot place, something lilty and airy.

“The north,” Myungho says, but that is it. Jeonghan respects his unsaid wishes not to say anything more. It makes him wonder about the northern provinces though, and he realizes he does not know much about them. It makes him feel like a failure as a ruler, and he makes a mental note to ask Wonwoo to gather some information for him once he is back in the castle. 

Myungho does not ask Jeonghan where he is from, and he is quieter than usual for the rest of the evening. 

*

Seungcheol knows Myungho too, which becomes apparent when he comes for another visit in the middle of Jeonghan’s second month. Jeonghan was expecting Seungcheol to treat him with suspicion, seeing how that is Seungcheol’s job, but he greets Myungho as warmly as he would greet a fellow soldier or family member, and Jeonghan feels a flicker of jealousy. He may treat the people close to him more casually than his parents might like, but they are always cautious in return, more aware of the rules of propriety than Jeonghan. Jeonghan understands it, but he is envious of the casual affection his friends always exhibit toward each other. It is so rare that he gets to experience it. 

“Where is my hug?” Jeonghan asks in an undertone as Seungcheol unloads his saddlebags. Seungcheol shoots him a surprised look, glancing at Myungho who is by the front door with Seokmin. “It will look suspicious if you hug everyone but me.”

“But…” Seungcheol says, looking nervous. It will not be the first time they have ever hugged, but it does not happen often. 

“Come on, Cheollie,” Jeonghan says. “My mother is not here to scold you.” Jeonghan smiles expectantly, laughing when Seungcheol rolls his eyes and gathers him in a bear hug. When he goes to grab one of Seungcheol’s bags for him, Seungcheol laughs out loud. 

“Such service,” Seungcheol jokes. “Maybe I like this new you.”

Jeonghan grumbles at his back as he lugs the bag toward the house. It is heavier than he expected, and he is grateful for Myungho grabbing the other handle and helping him carry it in. 

“Thank you,” Jeonghan says. Myungho smiles and Jeonghan returns it, but turns away when he sees Seungcheol’s raised eyebrows.

After their evening meal, Seokmin and Myungho go out to the barn to put the cows to bed for the night, and Seungcheol and Jeonghan sit down to discuss when Jeonghan might be able to return home. 

“How is my family?” Jeonghan asks. 

“They are well,” Seungcheol says. “Hansol is taking good care of them, though they miss you.”

Jeonghan frowns. There are definitely times when he cannot wait to be away from the castle and needs a break from his family, but when it goes on for so long… 

Jeonghan just wants to go home. 

“And the threats on my life?” Jeonghan asks. “I assume if you had found the mastermind, that would have been the first thing you told me.”

“Nothing yet,” Seungcheol says apologetically. “But we are all working on it, Jisoo especially hard. He did not even have time to send lessons with me this trip.”

“What a shame,” Jeonghan intones. Seungcheol laughs, despite the seriousness of their discussion. 

“I am still concerned about how they found out about Jeju,” Seungcheol says. “I do not want to say that it came from inside the castle, but I am not sure how else these people would know about it.”

“You think…” Jeonghan feels dread creep over him. “Someone on the staff.”

“That is the thing,” Seungcheol says. “I do not think it is one of them. I trust all of them, and so do you, but _somehow_ information is leaking out, and until we figure out how, I cannot bring you back to the castle and feel good about it.”

He falls silent, looking at the hearth moodily. Jeonghan leans back and studies him, noticing the tired slump of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes. 

“You know, I would feel a lot safer if you were here with me,” Jeonghan says. Seungcheol sighs and sends a tired smile in Jeonghan’s direction. 

“I know what you are trying to do,” Seungcheol says. “But my place is at the castle. This is my responsibility, and I will figure this out.”

Jeonghan reaches out and squeezes Seungcheol’s shoulder. “I believe you, Cheollie. I trust you with my life, you know that.”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol says, covering Jeonghan’s hand with his own. Their discussion is interrupted by the return of Seokmin and Myungho. They bring the cold air in with them, but when Seungcheol starts talking about tea, Jeonghan excuses himself to bed. He hears soft steps behind him as he gets to the bottom of the stairs, and turns to see Myungho. 

“No tea for you either?” Jeonghan asks. 

“I would rather just sleep,” Myungho says. “Besides, they need their time together.” 

Jeonghan nods in agreement, and they climb the stairs in companionable silence. They should part at the landing like they have many nights before, but Myungho looks contemplative. 

“Something on your mind?” Jeonghan asks.

“It is cold out tonight,” Myungho says. “I would sleep with the window latched, if I were you.”

He looks more serious than a discussion about weather entails, but something about his tone of voice makes Jeonghan nod in agreement rather than teasing him. 

“Alright,” Jeonghan says. “I will.”

Myungho looks a little relieved, and bows his head slightly. “Good night, Jeonghan.”

“Good night, Myungho,” Jeonghan replies softly. Myungho finally smiles softly, and that is when Jeongahn realizes that Myungho has not smiled since he came inside.

Despite Myungho’s soft words for his sleep, Jeonghan has a hard time sleeping that night, too caught up in thinking about everything Seungcheol told him and imagining what might happen. He rises when the night is still stained ink black, padding downstairs in search of the cup of tea that he had passed on earlier. 

“Is the water going to pour itself?” Myungho’s voice is soft, but it still startles Jeonghan. While he had not been able to fall asleep upstairs, now that he is in the kitchen and attempting to do a task, his brain feels foggy. He sloshes a bit of hot water on the workbench and hisses as he steps back. He accidentally steps directly into Myungho’s chest, and catches the scent of the flowery soap Seokmin makes before Myungho relieves him of the kettle and steps around him to finish the task. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Myungho asks as he retrieves a second cup and measures out more tea leaves. 

“No,” Jeonghan says grumpily. “It is as if the heavens heard me pleading and laughed in my face.”

Myungho chuckles and holds out a steaming mug for Jeonghan to take. Jeonghan does not blush when his fingers brush Myungho’s because he is a prince and he has flirted and courted his way through a million royal balls. Besides, he is too busy trying to figure out who is trying to assassinate him to worry about flirting with beautiful men.

Even if those beautiful men look at him with bashful eyes and laugh at his dumb jokes. 

“Would you like to count the cows with me?” Myungho asks. 

“Excuse me?” Jeongahn asks, wondering if heard wrong. “Count the _cows_?” 

“Yes,” Myungho says with a smile. “It is weaning season, and the calves had free range of the south field. We have to make sure they are all home safe.”

Jeonghan looks out the kitchen window at the black sky, and thinks about how cold and wet this cow adventure will be. But there is something in Myungho’s tone — half amused, half challenging — as if he expects Jeonghan to say no. 

So of course he says yes. 

“Not a word,” Jeonghan hisses at Seungcheol later in the morning when he is shivering in front of the fire. Myungho and Seokmin are making them breakfast in the kitchen after Seokmin’s grateful and surprised exclamations at how they had already taken care of one of his morning tasks for him. 

“I have nothing to say,” Seungcheol replies, and hides his smirk in his tea.

*

“Myungho, are you heading into town tomorrow?” Seokmin asks as they all sit by the fire one evening. He is busy mending a shirt, Myungho is whittling a piece of wood, and Jeonghan is combing his hair after his earlier bath. 

Myungho shakes his head. “Not tomorrow.” He glances at Jeonghan, looking quite serious, and Jeonghan glances away quickly, embarrassed that he was caught staring. 

Myungho disappears into town sometimes to sell the wares he spends the evenings crafting. Jeonghan has seen a lot of these creations come to life — from small, wooden figurines to combs with lotuses carved in the handle. Jeonghan has drawers of beautiful, priceless jewels and trinkets in his room at the palace, but he eyes every item Myungho crafts and sells with envious eyes. To have something created by someone as beautiful and interesting as Myungho is something that Jeonghan wants desperately. 

Every time Myungho comes home empty handed, Jeonghan thinks darkly of the purchasers of those items. Not only of them, but of Myungho’s ability to come and go from the farm as he pleases. There are acres of land, but Seokmin only feels comfortable with Jeonghan going so far without someone accompanying him, and since there are always chores to complete, there is not much time for one of them to accompany Jeonghan for exploration. 

“Seokmin-ah,” Jeonghan whines. “My arms are tired.”

“I do not care,” Seokmin singsongs. Jeonghan grins, delighted that Seokmin is finally standing up to him. All of their time together has finally made Seokmin more comfortable with him. 

“You are just going to leave me like this?” Jeonghan exaggerates his pout and sighs sadly. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Myungho looking between the two of them with mild disgust at their antics. 

“I comb my own hair every day,” Seokmin says. “You can do the same.”

Jeonghan sighs again, and then turns wide eyes to Myungho when he stands abruptly. He crosses to Jeonghan’s seat and holds his hand out. Jeonghan stares at it, and then looks up at Myungho. 

“The comb,” Myungho says. Jeonghan cannot think of anything to do except hand it over, and then scoot up on his seat when Myungho goes to sit behind him. Myungho’s fingers are gentle as he parts a section of Jeonghan’s hair and drags the comb through it. Jeonghan suppresses a shiver when Myungho’s fingers accidentally brush the side of his neck. 

Seokmin coughs, and when Jeonghan peeks up up at him, he is outright grinning at them. Jeonghan mouths a curse at him, and then turns his burning face down into his lap as Myungho continues his task. It is different than when Seungkwan combs his hair — fewer yanking through knots and comments about his hairline — and it is so pleasant that Jeonghan feels himself drifting closer to sleep. It is so easy to lean back into the solid warmth of Myungho’s body, and he should not be letting himself get so comfortable, but one moment should be okay.

*

In the morning, he is alone in the seat he had been sharing with Myungho the night before, but there is a thick quilt covering him. He smiles and hums to himself as he gets ready for the day, running his fingers through his knot-free hair before tying it up. He has to work in the barn today, and he does not want it to get in his way.

He walks the now familiar path to the barn when he hears a shout in the distance. He looks up to see a riderless horse barreling down the lane, the rider unceremoniously dumped at the curve in the road. The distance is enough that the horse has slowed to a miffed trot by the time it comes near the barn, so Jeonghan feels confident in approaching gently and reaching for the bridle. 

“Here girl,” Jeonghan calls gently. The mare’s ears twitch as she considers Jeonghan, and she turns toward him more fully as he pulls out a sugar cube from his pocket. Seokmin’s mount will be mad at him for giving away her snack, but Jeonghan thinks it is for a worthy cause. The mare steps toward him, and Jeonghan smiles and gently captures the trailing reins. “There we are.”

By the time the rider — dusty and annoyed, but otherwise unhurt — gets to the barn, the mare is perfectly content and enjoying neck pats from Jeonghan. 

“Thank you,” the man says as he gets close enough. “I think she got spooked by something, she has never done that to me before.”

“It was nothing,” Jeonghan replies, handing the reins over with a smile. “It added some excitement to my day.”

The other man smiles back, and his head tilts as he considers Jeonghan. “I feel like...have we met before? You look very familiar.”

Jeonghan bites back a smile. It has been a while since he has been out to any of the surrounding towns to see his subjects, but he has always been told that he has a memorable face. 

“I do not believe so,” Jeonghan says. He bats his eyelashes a little, because why not? It has been a while since he has flirted with anyone new, and the man is charming, with his shorter stature that makes him tilt his head back to look up at Jeonghan. “Is there something I should remember you for?”

“I am a musician,” the man says. “Well — a tradesman, but a musician as well. My name is Lee Jihoon.”

“Jihoon!” 

A new voice reaches them, and Jeonghan looks up to see another rider approaching. The stranger slows to a halt when he reaches them, and then jumps down. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, raking worried eyes up and down Jihoon’s dusty frame. 

“I am fine, Soonyoung-ah,” Jihoon replies. That does not stop Soonyoung from reaching out and patting his hands over Jihoon’s body himself, checking for injuries. Jihoon allows this with a fond smile on his face, and then says, “We have company.”

Soonyoung stops and then looks up to see Jeonghan grinning at him.

“Oh hello!” Soonyoung says with a grin, his cheeks puffing up cutely. “I’m Kwon Soonyoung!”

He holds out his hand to Jeonghan, and Jeonghan is about to delightedly return the gesture, when he hears someone calling his name. They all turn at the same time to see Seokmin hurrying toward them. 

“What is it?” Jeonghan asks, noting the harried look on Seokmin’s face. 

“Can you help Myungho in the barn, please?” Seokmin asks, eyes darting between Jeonghan and the newcomers. “And I will help our wayward travellers on their way.”

“But—”

“He really needs your help,” Seokmin says. Jeonghan opens his mouth to say something about how _Seokmin_ should help him then, but Seokmin heads him off. “Specifically your help. Yejin will not eat, and you are the only one who has been able to make her.”

Jeonghan frowns, because he can tell Seokmin is sending him off with the flimsiest of excuses, and makes a point to smile warmly at Jihoon and Soonyoung before he does. 

“Pleasure to meet you two,” he says, turning up the charm. Seokmin looks a little horrified, but Jihoon and Soonyoung both blush prettily and nod.

Jeonghan lingers for another moment before turning toward the barn without looking at Seokmin. He is muttering angrily under his breath by the time he gets there, and Myungho looks up in amusement. 

“What has gotten into you?” Myungho asks, rising from his crouch in front of Yejin.

“This place,” Jeonghan says. “I have never had more fresh air in my entire life, but it is _stifling._” He begins to pace in front of the stalls, the cows watching him with wide eyes. “I hate not feeling in control and being able to move about freely. I want to go _home._”

He so desperately wants to go home. He misses Jisoo and Seungcheol. He misses Wonwoo muttering at his books and taste testing for Mingyu in the kitchens. He misses bickering with his family. He even misses his swordsmanship training and his awful language lessons and the hours long meetings with the heads of state. He misses the freedom to be annoyed about these things that encompass his life. 

“And Seokmin means well, but are villagers really going to be a threat—”

Jeonghan stops talking, realizing who he is talking to. Myungho is watching him rant, eyes as wide as the cows who are watching the both of them. 

“I—” Jeonghan is suddenly at a loss for words, which is not something that has ever plagued him before. “I just mean — Seokmin is very protective of his friends, that is all.”

“He is,” Myungho says, and then does not say anything else. “He is a good friend.” 

“He is,” Jeonghan says. He suddenly feels exhausted. “I think I need to go lie down.”

Halfway back to the house he realizes he is still too agitated to sleep, and changes course. There is a river not far from the fields, and if he can sit by it and think for a little while, he might start to feel better. 

It is blissfully quiet when he finally arrives on the shore, but he knows he should not stay long. He has just settled down and gathered a few good pebbles for tossing when he hears the scuff of a boot against leaves behind him. He lets out a sigh. He does not know which of the two, Seokmin or Myungho, has come to find him, but he wishes they would give him a little more time. 

“Yah,” he groans. “I was going to come back, I promise.” 

There is no response, which is not typical of either of them. Seokmin would already be yelling in his ear, and Myungho would have at least laughed softly at his comment. An uneasy feeling slithers down his spine and he thinks of his sword, sitting dusty in the wardrobe in his room at Seokmin’s, since it gets in the way too much when he does farmwork. 

“Really, I know you are there Seokmin-ah,” Jeonghan continues, pretending to continue looking for pebbles. He is searching for a heavier rock now, to have _something_ he can defend himself with. He keeps up the chatter as he looks, pushing himself to his feet once he has something clenched in his fist. He lets it hang at his side, his sleeve falling down and covering it. “I am coming.” 

He thanks Seungcheol for training with him so much — for making him light on his feet and forcing him to practice meditation — because that is the only thing that stops this whole thing from ending in one blow. 

He dodges the first slash, turns quick enough to catch the sight of black cloth and a black mask, and then is pivoting away again. He steps out of the way of another blow, but the assassin was right to stalk him to the river — Jeonghan’s footing is uneven and he stumbles as some of the stones shift underfoot. That stumble is enough to allow the assassin to dart close and swipe at Jeonghan. Jeonghan brings up his fist and crashes the rock into the assassin’s head, throwing them off balance, but not before he feels the sharp, stinging pain in his side, letting him know he is not leaving the fight unscathed. 

Jeonghan plants his feet as the assassin regains their balance. 

“Is that all?” he taunts, the adrenaline rushing through his blood. All of the anticipation from the past year has lead to this moment. No matter what happens here, at least it will finally be over. The assassin growls out a breath and begins to advance again, but then Jeonghan hears someone yell his name. He is well trained enough not to look around, but the assassin jerks their head, clearly surprised at the arrival of someone new. 

“Jeonghan!” Myungho yells. “The river!”

The river? Jeonghan looks to the water and sees a family of ducks paddling by — _oh._ It only takes Jeonghan a second to understand, and then he ducks down out of the way, just as he hears the _twang_ of an arrow being released. The assassin, having no idea what Myungho was talking about, did not drop out of range, but instead drops to their knees with an arrow protruding from their heart. 

Myungho rushes forward, dropping to his knees next to Jeonghan.

“Are you alright?” Myungho asks, cradling Jeonghan’s face in his hands and raking worried eyes over him. “You are bleeding.”

“It is not mine,” Jeonghan lies. He gestures toward the would-be assassin. “Just…make sure they are really dead.”

Myungho stares at him for a moment longer before moving over to check the body. He looks at Jeonghan and nods solemnly before cursing. 

“What now?” Jeonghan asks, and then he feels the raindrops on his face. He sighs and pushes himself to his feet. It hurts, but he knows he can make it back to the house before Myungho notices that he actually is injured. 

“Come on,” Myungho says, leading the way back down the path. However, the weather has its own plans, because soon it is raining so hard that Jeonghan can barely keep his eyes open, let alone see Myungho on the path in front of him.

“Myungho!” 

“This way!” Myungho shouts over the sound of the rain and thunder. He reaches back and grabs Jeonghan’s hand in his own, tugging him to the side. Within a few steps they are in the mouth of a cave and sheltered from the rain. 

They stand there for a moment, drenched and panting, until a flash of lightning lights them up. Jeonghan can see the way Myungho is staring at him, wide-eyed and questioning, so he waits until the accompanying thunder dies down to say, “I will make a fire.”

He thinks he hears Myungho mutter, “_You_ will make a fire?” but brushes it off in search of anything dry in the cave that he can burn. 

“Were you following me?” Jeonghan asks as he gathers bits of kindling. His side is really killing him now, his left arm almost useless as the pain travels outward. Another flash of lightning reveals Myungho watching him closely. “And where did you get the bow?”

“I never go out into the woods without a weapon,” Myungho says, somewhat pointedly. He is closer than Jeonghan expected him to be, and he takes the kindling from Jeonghan’s hands. “I will do it.”

Jeonghan does not have it in him to argue, since he was about to drop everything anyway, and settles down to watch as Myungho sets up the small bits of wood and sets it alight with something from his belt. His eyes are getting heavy and he is about to get some rest on this dirty cave floor when Myungho says something unfamiliar, and then hisses, “I knew it.”

Myungho reaches out and peels back Jeonghan’s shirt just as Jeonghan finally gives up and slumps to the ground. 

“Why did you hide this?” Myungho mutters angrily. He swears again in that other language, and Jeonghan knows he is not hearing things this time. Suddenly Myungho’s accent makes more sense to him.

“You—” Jeonghan starts, and then yelps as Myungho presses a folded up cloth hard against his wound. “Maybe you were both sent here to kill me.” 

Myungho’s shocked eyes meet Jeonghan’s own, and then there is nothing to see as Jeonghan closes his eyes and passes out. 

*

When Jeonghan wakes, Jisoo is muttering by his bedside. 

“Oh good, you are awake,” Jisoo breathes out.

Jeonghan smiles and then asks, “Were you praying?”

Jisoo glares and then takes a nearby pillow and smacks Jeonghan with it. Jeonghan yelps and tries to fend off the attack, and hisses when the pain flares up in his side. 

Seungcheol enters the room not long after, Seokmin following with a tray of food, and they both smile at Jeonghan. Seungcheol stands at the foot of Jeonghan's bed looking miserable while Seokmin tells Jisoo to help Jeonghan sit up and puts a tray with a bowl of soup in his lap. 

“Why the long face?” Jeonghan asks, voice raspy from disuse. 

“I failed you,” Seungcheol says. “I am meant to keep you safe, and the closest you came to death was when I sent you here.”

“It is my own fault,” Jeonghan says. “I went out on my own, without a weapon for a companion. If I died, I would have deserved it for my stupidity.”

Everyone in the room flinches at that, and Jeonghan sighs deeply. It hurts, but worth it to get his point across. 

“How did I survive?” Jeonghan asks. “I thought Myungho would have finished me off in that cave.”

Seokmin frowns at him in confusion. “Myungho? What does he have to do with it?”

“He did not tell you?”

“Myungho left,” Seokmin says slowly. “It must have been sometime in the day before you went missing. It was weird because he has never left without saying goodbye before, but I assumed something important came up. And then you showed up on the doorstep and I was too focused on that to wonder where he went.”

“I did not get to the house on my own,” Jeonghan says. He realizes Myungho must have carried him back down to the house before disappearing to do who knows what. 

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, more patient than Jeonghan deserves. “Start from the beginning.”

“So he is a spy,” Jisoo says after Jeonghan finishes his story. 

“Maybe?” Jeonghan says. “But he saved my life.”

“But why keep his identity a secret?” Jisoo asks. 

“We all know what it is like for his people here,” Jeonghan says. “He was keeping himself safe by keeping his true identity hidden.”

“Did he ever figure out who you were?” Seungcheol asks, looking nervous. 

“I do not believe so,” Jeonghan asks. He feels unsure as he says it, remembering a handful of moments where Myungho smiled at him knowingly when he was doing a laborious task, or smirked at something Jeonghan said. But there is no way. “No, I do not think so.”

Seungcheol and Seokmin let out sighs of relief, but Jisoo gives him a secret, disbelieving look.

“Does this mean…” Jeonghan trails off. “Do I get to go home?” 

“Yes,” Seungcheol answers. “You get to go home.”

“Just in time for my birthday,” Jeonghan says with a grin, and Jisoo groans. 

*

Jeonghan’s entrance into the kitchen is halted after only one step as he runs into an unfairly broad chest.

“Do not come any further!” 

“This is my house!” Jeonghan replies. “It is my birthday!” 

“This is my kitchen,” Mingyu says, standing in Jeonghan’s way with his hands on his hips. Jeonghan tries to peek around him to see his birthday cake, but Mingyu puffs his chest up further and makes it impossible. “Out.”

“Your Highness!” Seungkwan calls just as Mingyu places a floury hand on his chest and pushes him out of the kitchen. “You have to get changed!”

Jeonghan lets himself be dragged back to his chambers and hums his way through Seungkwan helping him into the outfit they chose for his birthday ball. Now that the assassination plot has been uncovered completely — a ring of spies, but thankfully none of Jeonghan’s inner staff was involved — he can go back to his old life.

“What do you want to do with your hair?” Seungkwan asks, fixing Jeonghan’s sleeves for him. 

“Up, I think,” Jeonghan replies, studying himself in the mirror. 

“What about this?” Seungkwan asks, and then holds open a little wooden box. Jeonghan stares at the wooden comb inside it for a long moment. It looks familiar, but he also knows he has never seen it before. 

“Where did you get this?” 

“I found it among your things after you returned,” Seungkwan says, head tilted in confusion. “I thought it was something you purchased in town.”

“No,” Jeonghan says slowly. He picks up the comb and turns it over, inhaling sharply when he sees the lotus curved into the other side. “But I want to wear it.”

“That’s pretty,” Jisoo comments when he comes in and sees Jeonghan’s hair.

“_I’m_ pretty,” Jenghan replies. 

“_Anyway,_” Jisoo says. “The delegation from Shenzhen has arrived.”

“Good,” Jeonghan says. “How does Prince Junhui like his rooms?”

“He seems pleased with them,” Jisoo says. “And Chan is taking to his new assignment very happily. He and Hansol get along very well.”

“Good,” Jeonghan says again. “I hope Seungcheol is happy with the new recruit.”

“He knows exactly what you are doing,” Jisoo says. Jeonghan shrugs. So what if he recruited a junior captain so that Seungcheol’s workload would be lightened. He does not care if Seungcheol knows it, as long as he takes the extra time off that he deserves. 

“Oh well,” Jeonghan says with a shrug. “Ready to go?”

“Wait!” Seungkwan cries. “Do not forget your mask!”

Jeonghan exchanges a smile with Jisoo and holds still as Seungkwan ties the elaborate, white feathered mask around his eyes. Jisoo’s is almost as elaborate, glittery around his eyes and trailing jewels down to his collarbones. 

The party is already in full swing by the time Jeonghan arrives, and he bows to everyone from the top of the stairs, ignoring the twinge in his still healing side. He greets his family, stops to talk with Wonwoo and Mingyu near the bowls of punch, and then delightedly strikes up a conversation with the musicians from town, which include Jihoon and Soonyoung. They are bowing and apologizing for the fifth time for not realizing who Jeonghan was that day, and Jeonghan is laughing when Jisoo appears at his side and coughs softly. 

“Prince Junhui,” Jisoo says quietly. 

Junhui is also wearing a mask, just as everyone else is, and it only enhances his sharp grin. 

“Hello,” Junhui greets in Korean. Jeonghan stumbles to repeat the greeting in Chinese, and they exchange smiles as they bow to each other. “Happy birthday, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for coming,” Jeonghan replies. 

“Thank you for inviting us into your home.”

“We have a lot to discuss in the next few days,” Jeonghan says. “I know my parents are eager to speak to you as well.”

“Of course,” Junhui says. “But first, let us enjoy your wonderful party.”

He glances over Jeonghan’s shoulder, and then back to Jeonghan just as quickly. His mask covers a lot of his eyes, but his cheeks are still showing, so Jeonghan sees how they redden. When he looks over his shoulder, Jisoo is looking off into the distance innocently, but Jeonghan sees the smirk pulling at his mouth. 

“Behave,” Jeonghan whispers with a laugh. Jisoo winks at him and Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

The music swells and changes, and when Jeonghan turns back around, there is another man standing there. He is from Junhui’s delegation, that much is obvious from the stitching at the end of his sleeves. His mask is simple black with red accents, the long ribbons of it weaved through the fall of his hair and down his back.

“This is Xu Minghao,” Junhui introduces. Minghao and Jeonghan bow at each other, and Jeonghan eyes him curiously. There is something about him that seems familiar. “Minghao is my closest advisor and friend, my cute _xiǎo dìdì._”

Minghao cuts a glare at Junhui that has Jeonghan laughing out loud. 

“You two should dance,” Junhui says, stepping past and offering his hand to Jisoo without further comment, bowling deeply. Jisoo looks shocked for a moment, and then takes Junhui’s hand. Junhui sweeps him out onto the dance floor, and then Minghao and Jeonghan are left standing together. 

“Would you like to dance?” Jeonghan asks. Minghao nods and they bow to each other before stepping out. The closer they get to each to each other as they dance, the more familiar Minghao feels. His hand is large and soft in Jeonghan’s, though Jeonghan can feel some callouses as well, and he smells like flowers.

“I’m not so delicate,” Jeonghan says, looking pointedly at the way Minghao is barely touching Jeonghan’s waist. It is the correct hand placement for the dance they are doing, but it is also where Jeonghan’s side is still healing from his wound. But there is no way that Minghao should know that. 

“I just…” Minghao coughs. “I am just being polite.”

“I see,” Jeonghan says. They dance a few more steps, and then Jeonghan sees Minghao staring at his hair. 

“Do you like it?” Jeonghan asks, referring to the comb that Minghao cannot take his eyes off. “My lover made it for me.”

Minghao sputters so fiercely that he begins to cough, his face turning red, and Jeonghan smiles proudly. 

“Oh,” Minghao croaks. “How wonderful.”

“Thank you, Myungho,” Jeonghan says. Minghao stiffens in his arms, and Jeonghan laughs. “Oh, my apologies, it is Minghao, is it not?”

Minghao curses, and Jeonghan laughs again. 

“I am sorry for the deception, Your Highness,” MInghao says. “It was necessary.”

“I understand,” Jeonghan says. “You were scouting safe passage for Junhui, were you not?”

“I was,” Minghao says, and then meets Jeonghan’s eyes determinedly. “I was also tasked with watching over you until the assassin was taken care of.”

“And now that it is settled?” Jeonghan asks.

“I am just a delegate,” Minghao replies.

“Interesting,” Jeonghan says. 

Minghao stops dancing, and Jeonghan lets himself be pulled to a stop. They drop their hold on each other, but stay close. 

“I really am sorry, Your Highness,” Minghao says, stepping back to bow deeply. Jeonghan catches him halfway and pulls him back up. 

“You did save my life, so I suppose you have already made it up to me,” Jeonghan says. “And not ‘Your Highness.’”

“Pardon?”

“Don't call me ‘Your Highness,’”Jeonghan says. “Just call me Jeonghan.”

Minghao finally looks up at him and Jeonghan takes advantage of his distraction to pull him all the way up and resume their dance. Minghao lets himself be spun around a few times before coming back to himself. 

“So familiar,” Minghao mutters, eyes finally finding Jeonghan’s.

“You have seen me knee deep in cow shit,” Jeonghan says. “And you _laughed_ at me. I would say we are more than familiar.”

Minghao giggles at the memory, and when Jeonghan leans in to kiss him, cannot stop laughing long enough to let it happen. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan whines.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” Minghao replies, and then pulls Jeonghan in again.

“I love this country,” Junhui says as he twirls by with Jisoo still in his arms. Minghao shakes his head fondly but does not disagree, and Jeonghan smiles as they continue to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> It if wasn't obvious, the switch from Myungho to Minghao was intentional! When Jeonghan meets him he thinks he's Korean, and that's how Minghao introduces himself so Jeonghan won't know who he is or where he's from, and then after Jun introduces them, I refer to him as Minghao. 
> 
> If y'all have any questions or concerns, I'm on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/diamondscoops)


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